


Decisions and Revisions

by echoist



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3.05, Episode Related, Frayed, M/M, Multi, hey it could work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoist/pseuds/echoist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac pulls Scott back from the edge. (Episode fill for 3.05, Frayed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions and Revisions

  

'Scott,' Isaac shouts in his ear, tugging forcefully on his shoulder. He adjusts his grip and pulls harder, Scott's claws scrabbling against broken concrete. 'Scott! We have to go!'

Scott fights for his position, looking down into the pit where Derek and Ennis had fallen moments before, now lying sprawled in terrible, frozen positions against the ground. 'We have to help him!' Scott insists, eyes glowing wild in the darkness.

Three more arrows find their mark, near enough to blind, but not close enough to maim. Isaac sees Allison's strategy and doesn't want it wasted; she's walking a fine line, and it's only a matter of time before Deucalion and his pack turn on her as well.

He sinks his claws into both of Scott's shoulders and _pulls_ , nearly toppling the other wolf backward onto him. Isaac lands on his back and tries to roll up to his feet but Scott's faster, one fist punched clear through the concrete beside his head, the other raised, claws out, ready to tear across his throat. Isaac bares his skin, letting his lupine features fall away in unquestioning submission. Blood from the wound in Scott's side pools and drips onto Isaac's chest, and he stares at the wound in concern. Scott's eyes fade from a surprised red into a golden orange before the light dies altogether, and he sits back, stunned.

'Isaac -?' he questions, a bit unsteadily, and Isaac grabs Scott by his shirt and shoves him toward the exit, glancing back once at Allison with a strange sort of appreciation and gratitude. She nods, taking a step back behind a column.

Scott stops long enough to glance back at Boyd and Cora, motioning for them to follow. Cora bares her fangs and howls, but Boyd listens, pushing her after Scott while they still have a chance to get out of this alive. Scott sees them all out of the building before he follows behind, looking back for a moment too long. Isaac grabs his arm and tugs him toward the bike in the parking lot while Boyd and Cora make themselves scarce.

'I have to make sure,' Scott says, his voice hoarse, and Isaac grabs him by the shoulder, turning Scott around to face him on the asphalt.

'There's no time,' Isaac begs. 'If Derek's still alive, he can get out of this without our help.'

'How can you be sure?' Scott asks, glancing back and forth between Isaac's desperate expression and the building's dilapidated husk. 'He's your Alpha, how can you just _leave_ him like that?'

'Scott,' Isaac says turning his head around to face him with gentle hands on either side of Scott's face. 'He isn't. You know that, just like you know he's not yours. You don't owe Derek anything, and neither do I.' Scott looks like he's just swallowed something bitter and brittle, something with sharp edges that catch in his throat, and Isaac watches the truth of it settle into the lines of his body.

'That doesn't mean I want to see him dead,' Scott admits, the words tumbling from his mouth like dried leaves. He clutches at his side, and Isaac sees blood beginning to drip through his fingers.

'Right now, it's us against them,' Isaac rationalizes, his hands still pressed against Scott's skin where they've met no protest. 'And if they catch up, they _will_ kill us. Allison gave us a chance; I'd rather run with it and survive. Now are you coming, or do I have to steal your bike to get you home in one piece?'

Scott blinks. He can hear snarls and growls from the Alpha pack inside, regrouping and assessing the situation. 'Jesus, Scott -' Isaac snaps impatiently, and leans forward, taking a gamble. If it works, it will confuse and distract Scott long enough to get him out of here. If it fails, well, Isaac's never figured on living to old age, anyway.

Despite the force behind the gesture, Isaac's lips meet Scott's softly, almost gently, but with heat. Scott freezes, motionless against Isaac's attempts, but he doesn't pull away, and he doesn't strike him down. After a moment, Isaac gives up, backing away and dropping his hands to his side.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbles, dragging an arm across his eyes. 'For that, and - I'm sorry you're choosing him over me, because it's probably going to get you killed.'

Scott reaches out slowly and grabs a handful of Isaac's shirt in his hand, pulling him back in close and leaving a bloodstain on the fabric. He hesitates a moment, then cups Isaac's cheek in his hand and kisses him back, quick and fierce. It leaves Isaac breathless as Scott pulls away, swinging one leg over the bike and starting the engine. 'Come on,' he says, holding out his hand. Isaac takes it and climbs up on the bike behind Scott, slipping on the helmet and wrapping his arms around Scott's chest to avoid the wound in his side.

He leans lightly against Scott as they peel out of the parking lot and head back toward the suburbs, back to where Isaac can stay as long as he wants, back to four walls and a roof and maybe, maybe something more. Something with quiet authority that doesn't need to make its point with broken bones and shattered glass. Something that chose to be gentle, chose to forgive. Something like peace.

 

Allison ducks from one pool of shadows to another in the parking lot, making her way to her car before the sounds from inside get any closer. She feels like she should be jealous, watching someone else kiss Scott, but she isn't. She's almost jealous _of_ Scott, and that thought flutters around in her stomach while she cranks the engine and heads out in the opposite direction, taking a few miles to spread out, warm and lingering inside her chest.

'Strange times,' she mutters to herself, keeping the rest of the proverb locked away in silence as she heads back to face her father's inevitable inquisition. She feels oddly bolstered against it as she navigates the quiet streets, knowing the high ground had been hers from the beginning. This was a needle she could thread, and as for the rest of it, she would just have to see where the pattern took them.


End file.
